


A Lovely Voice

by xenocuriosa



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Begging, Drugs, F/F, Forced Orgasm, Torture, Vaginal Fingering, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 17:43:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21414118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xenocuriosa/pseuds/xenocuriosa
Summary: General Syndulla's interrogation takes a darker twist.
Relationships: Arihnda Pryce/Hera Syndulla
Comments: 7
Kudos: 47
Collections: Femslash Exchange 2019





	A Lovely Voice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MiriamKenneath](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MiriamKenneath/gifts).

Electrocution is bearable. Not fun, but Hera can handle it. Starvation, beatings, the whole ten meters—Hera's been there, done that.

But she hasn't faced an Imperial Mind Probe before.

The needle sinks into her neck and pumps chemicals into her bloodstream as Hera tries to writhe away from it. There's no point—the restraints around her waist and wrists are far too strong—but it's sheer instinct to escape, and Hera, worn down from torture, can't fight it.

The drug takes control of her system immediately, sparking synapses and stimulating neurons in ways they've never been before. Hera struggles to keep her eyes open, fights to stay coherent, but seconds later, the harsh lights of Pryce's office start to fracture and tremble in a rainbow of colors, and every noise reverberates against the inside of her skull.

Pryce is asking her questions, somewhere in front of her. Tell me the location of the Rebel fleet, she says. The words blur together in Hera's mind; _the Rebel fleet the Rebel fleet theRebelfleet—_

"It's…" Hera mumbles, her tongue thick in her mouth. There is a part of her that's still aware, below the haze of the drug, and that part is screaming at her not to say anything. "They're…"

Her eyes flick to the window behind Pryce, the glow from Capitol City twisting in her vision. Nothing's there. No one's there.

Pryce grasps her by the chin and tilts her head up, forcing Hera to meet her eyes. They are, Hera thinks muzzily, very _blue_, pale blue, the color of ice, a color you could drown in.

"Where," says Pryce again, this time enunciating enough for Hera's addled mind to follow, biting off each word in frustration, "is the Rebel fleet?"

Hera's head lolls. _Don't tell her. Don't tell her._

"'m not gonna tell you," she says thickly, and jerks her chin out of Pryce's hand. "Hurt me if you want. Not gonna say."

Pryce makes a disgusted snort and steps back, crossing her arms across her chest. She glares at Hera for a moment. Her features shift and twist and Hera shudders at the poison in that gaze. She mutters something Hera can't make out, but she catches the words _Thrawn_ and _fail_.

Then suddenly, Pryce's face relaxes.

"Fine," she says, that cut-glass Coruscanti accent scraping up Hera's spine. "If hurting you won't work…"

Hera hears the slide of wood on wood; Pryce is opening a drawer. She straightens and Hera tries to focus on what she has in her hand, something long and slim…

"…maybe the opposite will do the trick," Pryce finishes, satisfaction heavy in her voice. She unsheathes the item and Hera's attention snaps to it, her body tensing as she recognizes it at last.

A vibroblade.

Pryce flicks it on and the telltale hum permeates Hera's senses, digs into her head like a drill. She advances on Hera, the vibroblade extended before her like she's trying to defend herself. Funny, since Hera's the one all locked up with nowhere to run.

Pryce's brow furrows.

"Why are you laughing?" she snaps.

Is Hera laughing? She is. Laughing at the ludicrousness of the situation, at Pryce acting like she's the one in danger here, at her thinking that cutting will make Hera talk when electrocution wouldn't.

"Oh," Pryce says, and her brow smooths out again. "You still don't get it, do you? A pity. General Syndulla, I really thought you were smarter than that."

Hera glares through her hazy vision.

"Smarter than wha'?" she manages. 

Pryce twirls the vibroblade in her hand and says, "Smart enough to realize I don't have to hurt you to get you to talk."

She's close to Hera now, close enough that Hera could bite her face off, close enough to—

To slip the vibroblade inside the collar of Hera's jumpsuit and pull down, the thin fabric parting with a whisper to bare Hera's breasts.

Belatedly, Hera's mind absorbs Pryce's earlier statement. Maybe the opposite will do the trick. And the opposite of pain is…

"No," Hera hisses. "No!"

"Oh, yes," Pryce purrs, and with the hand not holding the vibroblade, she cups Hera's breast in one hand.

"I don't know anything about how to please a Twi'lek," she says, a mixture of disgust and buried excitement in her voice, "but under the Mind Probe's influence, I imagine it won't be hard."

She circles around Hera's deep green nipple with her thumb, and when Hera twitches, she drags her thumb directly across it.

The drug in Hera's system takes that spark of sensation and intensifies it, making Hera throw back her head, her _lekku_ tensing, as something that's almost pleasure but mostly pain courses through her. Pryce does it again and again, then starts pinching and twisting at Hera's nipple, until Hera is gasping and writhing against the slab of metal that imprisons her. Her body is sending her mixed signals, confusing her nervous system until she's overloaded with pure sensation. Heat begins to pool between her legs, a simple physical response to stimulation.

"Good," Pryce says, satisfied. "Now, let's try this."

The vibroblade between Hera's legs now, Pryce crouched before her, and she tries to kick at Pryce, but her ankle cuffs are too strong to break. Hera only succeeds at bruising herself. 

Pryce is careless with the blade, letting it cut a little bit into Hera's thigh, green blood dripping from the wound, but she slices the crotch of Hera's jumpsuit open without much difficulty, baring Hera's sex to her prying eyes.

"Oh," Pryce says, and Hera can envision her lips pursing into a little O of disapproval as she looks at Hera's _pekka_, the little tentacles lining her lower lips swollen and wet. "How…alien."

"You make it sound like a bad thing," Hera manages, exaggerating each word in an attempt not to mumble, and Pryce scoffs.

"You disgust me," she says, but there is an excited tension in her voice that doesn't come from anything close to disgust. Hera hears the clack of the vibroblade being set on the floor. "Look at you. You're wet."

"Yeah, and?"

"Aliens," Pryce hisses, and slides her fingers against Hera's _pekka_.

It feels—_good_, and Hera can't help but gasp as her tentacles curl around Pryce's fingers, seeking friction, sending sparks of pleasure up Hera's spine. Then Pryce's fingers—_inside_ her, Hera's hips bucking and her legs spreading without her permission, her mouth dropping open as whimpers fall from her lips while Pryce's fingers thrust slowly in and out of her. She can hear her own wetness, feel the twitching of her inner muscles as Pryce coaxes her closer to climax.

"Such a lovely voice," Pryce croons again. "Won't you sing me a song, my dear?"

"No," Hera moans, "no…please don't—"

Pressure builds and builds inside her, and she writhes, impaled on Pryce's fingers, the human's other hand cruelly twisting her nipples and squeezing her breast hard.

"Say that again," Pryce breathes.

Hera tries to stay silent. She really does.

"Please—" she begs, and her _lekku_ curl in shame. Pryce smirks. She thrusts and curls her fingers inside Hera and Hera screams as she comes, hard and against her will, on the fingers of the woman she hates most in the world.

"Where is the location of the Rebel fleet?" asks Pryce seconds later, stroking Hera's _pekka_ with deceptively gentle fingers.

"I…don't know…" Hera gasps, that one sober part of her the only thing standing between her and a confession. Pryce's face contorts in rage and she grabs for the vibroblade again.

But Hera doesn't care, because she sees a flicker of movement in that window over Pryce's shoulder. She starts to laugh again, and Pryce freezes.

"What?" she demands. "What is it?"

"Oh," Hera says, and it doesn't matter that she's wounded, half-naked, and throbbing in the aftermath of pleasure. Because that flicker was Kanan Jarrus. Hera's crew is here to rescue her. Just in time.

"Oh," Hera says again, and laughs dazedly. "You're in terrible trouble."


End file.
